Page 142 of Worth the Trip

“Ethics review.”

“You got my hand locked between your thighs, and somehow, I’m under investigation.”

“You entered the area without written authorization.”

He laughed, then turned his palm upward. No reaching farther. No testing me. Just an open hand.

I slipped mine into it.

His fingers closed around mine.

That was all.

By the time we stopped at the seafood restaurant, I had nearly forgotten the argument. Landon accepted two large bags beneath the covered drive, and the smell hit immediately. Garlic. Butter. Seasoning.

I looked behind us. “That smells excessive.”

“You requested seafood.”

“I didn’t request the Gulf.”

“Snow crab, shrimp, blackened redfish, corn, potatoes, garlic bread.”

“Landon.”

“What?”

“That is entirely too much food.”

“You said nighttime had separate requirements.”

“And cheesecake?”

He nodded toward another bag. “Dark chocolate.”

I stared at him. “You really got everything.”

“I said I would.”

Something about the simplicity of that answer touched me more than it should’ve. I squeezed his hand.

“I know.”

The cabin appeared behind a stand of pines, dark wood warmed by amber porch lights. Beyond it, the lake disappeared beneath the storm except when lightning spread silver across the surface. Landon parked beneath a covered carport and turned toward me while rain drummed overhead.

“Stay here while I get the food.”

I looked at him.

He sighed. “Would you please remain inside the warm, dry vehicle while I carry the bags, love?”

“Marginally better.”

“I’m growing.”

“As you wish.”

His eyes changed at hearing his own words returned, then he kissed me.